In the Land of Blood and Fire
by Sulfur Dusk
Summary: AU - "You do not fear me." It was a statement, threaded with the rigid tone of a stranger with no intent other than to kill. When she declined to respond, his sickening smirk only grew, as if he was about to laugh. "The Empire will fall before me, little fox, and you will join me in watching it burn." Fem!Yuugi. Blindshipping.
1. Chapter One

**In **_the _**Land** _of _**Blood** _and _**Fire**

Chapter One

* * *

**Yuugi**

* * *

She really should've been used to seeing this.

Kisara Sardotheon—looking every bit the honorable lady she was raised to be—had her attention glued to images shown only through the frosted glass of her windows. Past the marbled balcony that oversaw the crisp white sands of the beach, the Shifting Coast and the endless extension of stones and small towers that made up Snowmount Rock, the heiress to the Sardotheon royal title could only glimpse a life she would never have.

Yuugi pitied her sister when no one else would. Though they were not of blood, they shared a bond envied behind closed doors. Kisara's older brother Joseph would find their relationship a tad strange, if it not for the fact that Yuugi had remained with them since the day their kindly mother found her at their doorstep, accompanied with nothing but the scars on her skin and the rags on her back.

And in all honesty, despite their closeness, Yuugi was still struggling to adjust to the image of Kisara constantly staring out of the windows of Snowmount Rock's towers.

What drew her attention the most was the absolute haunted distaste shrouding her adoptive sister's eyes—eyes that once glowed with immense passion and maturity, exhibiting the shade of blue that only the rippling waves of the sea could compete against, now showed as lusterless orbs that seemed anxious for something more.

Yuugi had been staring at the still image portrait of her sister for so long that she forgot why she wandered there in the first place. A blush came to her cheeks before she inhaled and spoke. "Kisara, your mother told me to remind you that the lords and ladies aren't coming until three days' time." She paused, wondering if a single word registered with the porcelain-haired beauty. "And that you probably shouldn't worry too much about it."

Kisara turned her head slightly, as if only to acknowledge her presence. Whether she was actually listening or not, Yuugi couldn't tell. Sometimes it was an achievement just to get her to look away from the window. "Mother's the one that puts the pressure on my shoulders in the first place. If anything my anxiety is her doing."

"Well that's hardly fair," Yuugi murmured. Kisara's mother was overbearing and demanding with just about everything, but this marriage union was important for both the Sardotheons of Snowmount Rock and the Harts of Rivercastle. It was the partnership sealing between Wyntorn and Godsdom.

Kisara was the first to be betrothed. Her brother Joseph soon followed, destined to wed a pretty maiden from Redstone.

If Yuugi was thankful for anything, it was that she was the least-likely person to be married off to anybody. She was only sixteen, though Kisara was fourteen and still learning to adapt to the ways of life and completing her schooling.

Sometimes it was useful to be hated within her own home.

"I think it _is _fair." Kisara exhaled, roughly rubbing her arms. To her the fine silks felt like a loose second skin: uncomfortable and unfortunately required. "Mother can put all these jewels on me and make me wear expensive gowns, but I'm scared. I mean…" She blushed. "I have never even_ talked _to a man before… and I'm about to be with a _lord_."

Yuugi frowned, taking a seat on the blankets of Kisara's lavish bed. She glanced over the other quizzically, understanding her fear. "I know it must be scary." She paused, and smiled, tapping the other on the shoulder. Kisara turned, and Yuugi's heart clenched at the sight of tears in the other's eyes. "It will be scary, and it's good that you know that." She locked gazes with her carefully. "But always know that your older sister Yuugi is here to beat up anybody who tries to hurt you. Call for me and I will be there for you always."

And it was the truth.

The girl destined for marriage within a few short days could only smile weakly at such a vulnerable statement. She knew she meant the world to Yuugi; the other would not hesitate to kill for her if she could. "Thank you, Yuugi. I feel a little better."

Before Yuugi could respond, a knock on the door and a rough shove of the rosewood slabs snapped both girls' attentions. Joseph Sardotheon stood there looking like he'd just bathed in his clothes, his dishwater blonde hair slapped against his cheeks and deep brown eyes alive with boyish excitement.

"You look like you were just chewed and spat out by a giant dog," Yuugi deadpanned. Kisara giggled.

Joseph blinked and raised an eyebrow. "I'm only here 'cause Mom wants to see us downstairs. She didn't mention you though Yuug'." He sounded excited, though Yuugi could tell that in reality he was dreading what was about to come. Rehearsal dinners for meeting the betrothed lord and lady would bore him to tears.

He smirked at his adoptive sister and tilted his head toward the door. "Come on, Kisara."

Kisara glanced down at her bare feet, pensive. "I'll be down there soon. Just give me a few minutes."

"I'll leave you alone to get dressed," Yuugi muttered. She pecked Kisara briefly on the forehead before shoving Joseph out of the room and glaring profoundly at the oldest of the Sardotheon children. "You know, the point of _knocking _is to see if you can or cannot _enter_. Barging in isn't exactly the first option, you know."

The blonde shrugged. "Eh, figured she was starin' out the window like she always does." He paused and suddenly glanced over Yuugi curiously. "By the way, how's she doing? I know you've been talking to her about this… marriage stuff."

Yuugi pondered on what she should tell him, but decided against the details. "Just told her what I thought she needed to hear. It's true though, of course." She blinked. "I mean, I know _you're _not excited for this either. I feel sorry for your future wife. She's going to be so disappointed she's marrying a lapdog."

She dodged a swung hand and smirked at his blush. "You know it's true."

"Eh, I don't care what you say." He rubbed his nose and stood up straight, puffing out his chest. "I've got the best chance of sealing this deal with Lady Dunwald."

"If you say so." Yuugi rolled her shoulder and winced; training with the Wyntorn guards was not the best idea when the winds pushed the sands of the Shifting Coast to unfathomable levels. Her muscles contracted so much she knew she would be sore for weeks.

"You know, if you wanted to train with someone elite you could've just asked me," Joseph muttered. Great. He must have seen her flinch. "I mean, that's gotta hurt. The guards get the worst treatment having to train on the beach, especially when storms are brewing."

The Shifting Coast was outlandishly beautiful, though in the deadliest way. Lightning and rainstorms overcast the Kingdom of Wyntorn's weather constantly, and since the outcropping of Snowmount Rock sloped over and burrowed into the sands of the beach, it was common ground and easy access for the guards to train and be out of the way of their lord and lady. Yuugi liked keeping herself strong and motivated, and usually followed their training regime to the best of her abilities, from far back and undetected, though still braving against the harsh weather.

"I'm fine," Yuugi murmured. "You should probably go and see your mother."

Joseph's nose wrinkled, his eyes darkening. "She's your mother too."

Yuugi had no response for that. She stared at her brother until he stood down and dropped the subject before it turned into an argument.

It was no mystery that the Sardotheons were beautiful, marvelous, regal people. They were well-respected in Wyntorn, and kept the people happy as best they possibly could, though since the province itself was much smaller than the neighboring four kingdoms, it was a possibility that they were just easy to please.

Yuugi stared at her reflection, drawing attention to the details of her eyes, her face, her skin, her hair… she was so different from them. It was remarkable that she could even be considered living with them; she seemed hardly relevant as a citizen of the Ostrësian Empire at all.

Lord Ron and Lady Eleanor Sardotheon shared the features of their son and daughter easily. Kisara and Lady Eleanor both had the fair yet rosy complexions, the streaming silver-pale hair that shined like marble, and the glistening blue crystal eyes. Lord Ron and Joseph were tanner, though not by much, features sharp yet not exactly chiseled, and brown eyes that were deep as chocolate and as rugged as stones, with hair the color of roasted pumpkin seeds.

Yuugi was an anomaly on her own, compared to them or not. She was so tiny in stature, barely resembling a female, especially at sixteen. Her skin was so pale she resembled a corpse; her hair was unruly and spiked in numerous directions, laced through with the strangest colors and shades that ranged from golden to raven-dark roots. Her eyes were huge, like that of a doll's, always emotional and curious, seeking answers and asking questions just through observation. They shone as dark violet rings, brimming with bitterness and distrust.

It was hard not to compare herself with her unrelated siblings, but she cherished them enough to think of them as more important to Wyntorn and the rest of the Empire. She knew Kisara's betrothed would adore her at first sight.

_Perhaps my mother thought me so ugly she needed to discard me_, Yuugi thought.

She shrugged, suddenly picturing what Lord Tristan and Lady Téa would look like; maybe they will be just as appealing as her siblings, and they will all thrive in their own separate lives from the castle of Snowmount Rock. Once they left, what would Yuugi even do with herself?

What would Lord and Lady Sardotheon do with her?

She frowned at the thought. They would have no more use of her. Sure, they could send her away to somewhere more in need of an extra burden in the family, though she never felt welcome with the likes of Ron and Eleanor.

_I'll travel the country someday. Maybe when they leave. I can leave the Shifting Coast and Snowmount Rock and Wyntorn altogether. _

There were so many lands, so many kingdoms to explore. She could find many things about the other kingdoms, about the other families, and maybe someday even see the illustrious Emperor Carlisle "Pegasus" Hightower upon his throne in the Imperial Capitol. That would be one of many aspirations.

Curiosity was what drove her forward, she supposed. One fatal flaw she would probably never give up for anything.

* * *

**Atem**

* * *

He was coming closer. Much closer.

The harsh ocean waves churned, folded over and repeatedly _slapped _against his ship. Men and women that served him with their very lives scrambled across the decks and through the many different levels of the wooden creation, keeping the vessel as calm as possible.

The wake of a storm was in their midst, and Atem _hated _storms. Or, as he would insist, he was simply not used to them. There was hardly ever any rain in his country, the vast desert landscape of Verythia. The weather was always blistering hot, the scalding suns shedding simultaneous life and death upon his people. Over centuries bards and soothsayers would sing tales of pilgrims marching across the vicious Verythian wastes in search of fabled springs.

Atem always dismissed these tales as foolish and unremarkable. He was on a mission; the border of the Ostrësian Empire was soon to be in his path; he could practically taste the salty air that cloaked the Shifting Coast—once his tongue danced with that flavor, he would know that he had arrived.

* * *

**Téa**

* * *

Redstone was one of the larger kingdoms of the Ostrësian Empire. It stood atop deep rolling hills and cliffs, boasting the popular Crimson Colosseum for aspiring gladiators, where the royal family of Redstone would take popular seats and watch the spectacle without judgment.

Watching men slaughtering one another for glory and the thrill of bloodshed was nothing new or especially discomforting to Téa Dunwald. After all, her biggest obstacle at the moment was getting ready for marriage—marriage to a total stranger from some tiny kingdom barely stamped on the Ostrësian Empire map.

Lady Téa didn't understand why her father would allow this, or why the magisters would even bring up the idea. What did Wyntorn even have for resources? What could they possibly trade?

The Dunwalds wouldn't have any use for that storming beachside, or the semi-secret black market that stretched throughout the kingdom's territory like a scar.

When Téa accompanied her father to royal gatherings with the other kingdoms she hardly ever saw the Sardotheons there. She was so used to conversing with the Beaumonts and the Harts, who were far wealthier and much more impressive.

"Maybe it won't be so bad," she whispered, wondering if the gods could hear her silent prayers. "This could be a step forward in your life as a Dunwald. As the Dunwald heiress."

But leaving home was something she was not looking forward to.

* * *

**Joseph**

* * *

With one clean swipe, the haystack dummy was sliced into two perfect halves. The blonde took a moment to admire his growing swordsmanship skills.

"You're definitely improving," Magister Mahaad remarked. A loyal advisor and spymaster to Lord Ron, Mahaad was a good friend to the Sardotheons and prided himself on his skills in the arts, especially with blades. "Try to keep your posture rigid and taut. You don't want to relax once you cut an enemy down. There could always be someone else tailing right behind you."

Joseph shrugged, turning over the blade in his hands. It was imported steel from overseas, from _where_ exactly, he was not allowed to know. He guessed that it was forged in Verythia; his father always liked the fancier metals that could not be obtained through trade in the Empire.

"I still think I'm way better than I used to be," he murmured. He glanced at Mahaad, noticing the grim yet faint smile twisting the other's lips. "Thanks for, well, teaching me all this time. Father would never put aside his own schedule to show me how to cut down a thousand planted dummies."

Mahaad chuckled and shook his head. "It's all in the matter of the job, Joseph." He walked over to the rocky cliff that stretched down to the sands of the beach. One step forward and he would fall directly to his death. While Snowmount Rock was indeed an ancient and beautiful place, it was one of the most dangerous royal houses in all of the Empire.

"Are you married, Mahaad?" Joseph asked.

The other blinked and looked at him cautiously. "I am a magister. By the law I am not allowed to acquire a wife."

Joseph hesitated. How was he supposed to talk about this with anyone? "I think getting married sounds stupid." He sighed, as if a huge burden was just leased from his shoulders. He would never admit this to Kisara, or Yuugi especially. The thought of the former made him sick. "I mean, I'm not ready to be a lord! I'd rather train; maybe meet the High King someday. I dunno. I don't want to be tied down like this, but…" He grumbled. "I have no choice."

Mahaad folded his arms, prominent muscles from hours of training rippling like the waves of the ocean. "Indeed, sometimes in order to please the people who birthed and raised you, you must make sacrifices." Joseph dipped his head, pondering. "However, it is ultimately up to you on whether you wish to make that sacrifice."

The Wyntorn heir blinked at these words and snapped his attention to the magister. A thousand ideas ran through his mind, none of them accomplishable. "I would dishonor my family name." It was punishable to even think about this, to even acknowledge that he thought about disobeying the word and promise of his parents. "I would be punished like a criminal if I tried running away…"

Running away. Retreating like a coward, like a puppy with its tail between its legs. The oldest son of the Sardotheons was suddenly disgusted with himself.

"I shouldn't have brought this up." Joseph glared at the dummies set before him and wanted to burn them each to the ground, imagining them as figments of himself. Cowards deserved that treatment.

Mahaad glowered. "Do not be ashamed of yourself. It is natural to want to escape, especially at your age." His thirty years was far past Joseph's eighteen, but he understood what the other was thinking. "It's natural, Joseph."

"No." He was even more ashamed since he knew that Kisara wasn't feeling this way. She was scared of marriage but she never thought about abandoning it. Why shouldn't he be brave alongside her? "I need to stick with it and not think about it anymore."

"Think about what?"

Joseph turned and blinked at the presence of his adoptive sister. Yuugi was dressed in the usual common clothing that his parents hated seeing her wear: the buttoned white blouse, the rugged leather pants and the shoes caked in damp sand. In fact her colorful, wild hair was slicked and drooping from water; he guessed she was searching through the reservoir again, like the guards did in hopes that no one was crawling through the tunnels to attack Lord and Lady Sardotheon.

And yet, somehow, to him, she was so pretty.

He shoved the thought to the deepest corridors of his mind and refused to open that door again. "Nothing, Yuug'. Just talking about… man stuff, with Mahaad."

"Man stuff," she deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. Totally not in your interest at all. Except with how you dress." Joseph's nose wrinkled. "Mom would kill you if she saw you in that."

"I don't really care what Lady Eleanor thinks of my wardrobe. And I doubt she really minds either," Yuugi retorted haughtily. She flashed a kind smile at Mahaad, her face glowing with childishness. "How are you, Magister?"

"Quite good, Yuugi. Thank you." Mahaad smiled and ruffled her hair. Joseph suppressed the slight jealousy twisting in his stomach. "So, it seems that your brother and sister are to be married soon."

Yuugi's glow instantly faded. Worry clouded her eyes, replacing the excitement of seeing one of her favorite people in Wyntorn. "Yes. Kisara isn't taking it well." She glanced at her adoptive sibling and grinned crookedly. "Though the blonde dog seems a bit too excited for what's coming for him."

Joseph was stiff. He didn't want to talk about this now or even correct Yuugi's thinking. The less she knew, the better. "Yeah. Really pumped up for this marriage union shit." He rolled his eyes.

He knew that Yuugi understood to some extent. When he and Kisara were informed two years prior that they were destined to marry the heiress of Redstone and the heir of Godsdom, neither were excited, yet they craved new opportunities. To have the door opened so ceremoniously was like a sought-after treat in a lot of commoners' eyes. Yuugi was never a part of the discussion—the most Mother or Father ever acknowledged her in their family was when they needed to leave for a royal gathering and they wanted someone to be left behind to help guard the castle with other armed men.

Yeah, right. Yuugi guarding the castle by her lonesome was asking for trouble, and Kisara and Joseph always objected to the idea. Ron and Eleanor Sardotheon insisted that it was the best decision, and that they could not have someone of commoner blood go with them, even though she was technically adopted into their family.

Joseph would never forget the first day she arrived at their doorstep—covered head to toe in dried blood, cuts, sand swept over her bare feet, with hair cropped far too short and eyes that shone like rigid, unbreakable gemstones. At seven years old, he thought the four-year-old stranger was weird, since she refused to talk to him or even look at his then-two-year-old sister.

Years passed. He found her intriguing. Smart, even. Some more years passed, he thought she was growing rather pretty. Even more years passed, and to him she was worth a lot more than she was supposed to be—

_Stop it. _He shook his head, teeth grinding in irritation.

"Anyway," Yuugi interjected, breaking Joseph's trail of thought, "your mother wanted me to come get you. She mentioned the dressing room and preparations for rehearsal."

He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Now?"

"Yeah." Yuugi smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry. We can go exploring later if you want. I know another way out of the castle." She turned to Mahaad expectantly. "Promise you won't tell the Mother Beast?"

Mahaad chuckled. "Of course."

Joseph grinned and, within seconds had his adoptive sibling in a headlock. "Yeah? Well you better spar with me later too Yuug'! Mahaad's boring me to tears." He chuckled when she screamed in his grasp, arms flailing like an upset toddler. When he released her she stared at him, flushed and wide-eyed.

"Idiot," she muttered, and then smiled. "I'm heading back inside. You should come. Don't anger your Mama Bear."

The blonde dipped his head, trying his hardest to suppress a snarky grin. "If you say so, _common girl_."

* * *

**Mai**

* * *

The Palace of Roses was a sight to see. A monument constructed of the most beautiful marble pillars detected in all of the Ostrësian Empire, it simultaneously boasted the shade of moonlight, while the cracks in the marble flashed the same bluish color of a royal man's veins. Fresh blossoms, just now waking from a season-long slumber, decorated the pillars, disappearing and reappearing throughout hedges of trimmed moss.

The palace gardens were rich with intense aromas and exotic flowers that bloomed according to the different seasons; ironically, winter caused the most pleasant and interesting-looking plants to flourish. Lady Margaret Beaumont of Blackwall, otherwise known as "Lady Mai of the Thorns", strolled through her private gardens whenever necessary, always looking ready for new information, and always prepared for what was to come.

But at this moment the powerful woman was nowhere near her gardens. In one of the ovular chambers walled with stained glass and oaken wood, her messengers stood cowardly shaking beneath her presence. Dressed in nothing but silken bathrobes that would have cost the entire contents of a miser's purse, Lady Mai held nothing back.

"So, you're telling me that there is a mysterious trespasser boarding the Shifting Coast… and that Wyntorn is completely unaware about it? You expect me to believe such bullshit in a time like this?" She grabbed the collar of the terrified messenger and pulled him towards her, inches from her face. "Where did you get this information?"

"M-Magistress Ishizu van Par, Milady!" the little man croaked.

That name instantly rang a bell. Mai dropped him, raising a quizzical brow. She tapped her chin in thought, curiosity replacing rage. "Ishizu, eh?" She crossed her arms. "And can you explain why she wouldn't just inform the Sardotheons?"

"N-No, Milady…"

"So you truly have not the slightest idea on how Ishizu van Par could know about the invasion… and yet, Wyntorn's own rulers could not? We are hundreds of miles from where they are set and somehow you were able to get word that the Magistress saw a ship?"

"S-She is the Magistress Who Sees, Milady…" the messenger swallowed. "I-Ishizu v-van Par is the one with the Sight—"

"I know about her abilities you fool!" Mai dropped him, frustrated once more. "You're giving me a headache. Go scrub the kitchen floors or something. Just get out of my sight." She waited until the impish man squeaked and dashed out of the chamber like a fox with its tail on fire.

Whether the message was ludicrous or not, it was important information. She suspected that pirates from Verythia were trying to claim their borders once more. This was not the first time Wyntorn had been attacked or ambushed, though the last siege from that direction was centuries ago. Why would they attack now?

_Maybe they're not pirates_. She sighed, rubbing her temples. She liked excitement; she thrived on the battlefield with her manipulation of magic and her adept skill with a crossbow. But a hidden attack on the shores of the Shifting Coast?

True, Blackwall was Wyntorn's greatest ally, though why Ishizu would contact her and not the very rulers of Wyntorn was puzzling. Snowmount Rock was a practical watchtower for the beach!

And if Ishizu used her Sight…

_Damn woman_. She would have to contact Ron and Eleanor as soon as possible. Or maybe even meet them in person. Magistress Ishizu was grim and vague with her messenger and did not mention how close the siege was or even what the ambushers looked like, but she needed to be sure.

She ran to her bedchambers, where the heavy floral scent of her precious roses wafted in clouds. Her sheets were still overturned, still warm with her body and that of a female slave she invited to stay with her during the eve. She could still remember the taste of the other woman, the feel of her skin against hers…

If her parents knew of her bisexual states she would have been killed as a baby. Mai swept a blonde lock behind her ear and strode to the windows, glancing out over the busy districts that led up to the Palace of Roses. She could hear activity bustling in the cobblestone streets, the marketplace alive with rich chatter. She imagined children quarreling in the square, faces stuffed with candy and clothes sewn with fine linens.

Blackwall was one of the wealthiest kingdoms around, and it showed.

_A bit too flashy at times_, Mai thought. She sighed, wondering about the Sardotheons. What could they possibly be doing at this moment?

She blinked, and suddenly remembered. "Their children are to be married…"

* * *

**Yuugi**

* * *

"Come on. Again." Eleanor Sardotheon's voice boomed like an angry bird's. Patience was not her strongest virtue, and watching her children repeat their lines and vows up to twenty times _wrong _only made her frustrations grow.

Yuugi was leaning against one of the pillars of the dining hall. She liked this room due to its expansive atmosphere, especially in comparison with the rest of the castle. But now the air seemed claustrophobic, and Kisara and Joseph looked so uncomfortable it affected their own father.

"Dear, perhaps that's enough for today. They're not getting married based on their memorization skills," Ron murmured, attempting to calm his wife. Eleanor straightened and shook her head.

"No, Ron. This must be perfect. We're supposed to impress the Dunwalds and the Harts, and _this _will not impress anyone!"

Kisara sighed in frustration. Like her brother, they were dressed in their most expensive garments, looking every bit the young husband and wife they were soon meant to be. "Mother, we tried this so many times. None of it is working. Can't we please rest for a moment?"

Joseph looked at his father expectantly. "Kisara's right. This is getting a little insane."

Yuugi could only watch as her siblings and parents squabbled over what seemed like nothing. She kept her word in, knowing that if she said anything she would embarrass them, and that was not her goal.

"I will forever cherish you while you bask in my glow—"

"_Wrong_, Joseph! _Wrong_." Eleanor's face glowed beet-red.

"Well I would hope so. That line's terrible." Kisara giggled at her brother's quip, but immediately clamped her mouth shut at their mother's icy glare.

"Children, this is going to be the most important day of your lives. We will impress the Dunwalds and the Harts and not mess anything up. Do I make myself clear?" Eleanor was speaking stiffly and calmly at this point, and the children knew that whenever she used this voice she was seconds away from exploding like a teakettle.

Kisara was the first to break the awkward silence. "I am sorry, Mother. It won't happen again." She nudged Joseph, and he repeated her words, mechanical in his delivery and showing no remorse in his eyes.

_Joseph… _Yuugi thought begrudgingly. He was asking for trouble.

"Yuugi. Perhaps you're distracting them. Go somewhere else so you're not a contributing factor in their lacking performance."

Yuugi bristled and resisted the urge to growl, though nodded. She always reminded herself that this woman and her husband took her in and raised her, even though her treatment of her was positively terrible and embarrassing at times.

"She's not distracting us Mother. She was helping us most of the day getting ready," Joseph growled out coolly.

Kisara nodded. "He's right, Mother."

Eleanor shook her head. "I will simply not allow it. If anything she is distracting me."

Yuugi left the room before they could get in another argument. She hated it when they fought, especially over her. Joseph and Kisara took her side against all odds, even against that of their own mother, and for that Yuugi would be forever grateful.

She remembered when Kisara first held her hand on the beachside, smiling widely like she had never smiled before. Joseph was with them, watching contently, still not sure if he trusted the newcomer, though Yuugi was quick in obtaining his brotherly affection as well. She loved them both dearly, and would never leave them, but within a few days' time they would both soon be taken from her. The richer family had the rights to take the other away, and in this case both the Dunwalds and the Harts were wealthier.

_I need to get used to it. _She exhaled shakily. _When they're gone, you can't be upset about it. You have to remain strong and not let Eleanor break you down. If she sends you away, let her. _

There were only so many options left at this point.

Within minutes she found herself on the roof of one of the tallest towers of Snowmount Rock. Passageways that led from the dining hall to the bedroom chambers to the storage compartment were the easiest shortcuts to the very top of the monument. When Yuugi discovered this as a six-year-old, with nearly two years having passed of being a member of the Sardotheon household, she was elated. Joseph was as well, and he often joined her when they sat under the stars, scoping out the constellations and wishing upon each one, hoping that their dreams would eventually come true.

The last time they sat under the stars she wished to make a name for herself, as Yuugi, not as a Sardotheon. She did not know Joseph's wish, but she remembered him being very bashful and odd that evening, giving her longer looks than normal. They were close, she supposed, but even then that was a comfortable but rather different experience.

Tonight, the inky blackness of dusk swept across the Shifting Coast like an ethereal blanket. The gods were watching the Sardotheons tonight, she supposed. She hoped they were casting a watchful eye on Joseph and Kisara; their fates hung in the balance. Their futures were already determined, and they needed help adjusting.

She lied on her back, stretching her aching limbs and breathing in the fresh salty air. The sound of the evening birds singing and the lapping waves of the calmed ocean brought nothing but peace. She could fall asleep for days if she wanted to… if only the night was eternal. What a blessing that would be!

Yuugi did not notice the slight change in the waves, or the stuttered beats of wings flapping. Birds scrambled, as they sensed something was amiss.

Within a few days there would be a stranger docking on the shores of the Shifting Coast, and they would not be prepared.

* * *

_**Thank you so much for reading everybody! I'm currently on Christmas Break for school so I've been dying to get this story out. I've written many chapters and am so determined to show you guys the world I've fallen in love with. The other stories are going through certain roadblocks at the moment, but eventually they will be updated! **_

_**School has taken all of my time, but I have a couple weeks to write as much as I can before hitting the books. **_

_**Happy holidays!**_


	2. Chapter Two

**In **_the _**Land **_of _**Blood **_and _**Fire**

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

**Téa**

* * *

In just seven hours, she would accept her vows in front of the royal Sardotheons in their own home, atop the massive pillars of Snowmount Rock. The Shifting Coast would be just as familiar as it was to her when she was a child dancing through the sands with her father. It was a shame that he wouldn't be there to celebrate with her.

She absentmindedly wrapped her hands tightly around the glowing emerald necklace, pulsating with a spell that protected her family line with ease. She wondered if the effects would ever wear off, just in case she did something reckless. It wasn't in her nature to act irrationally, but she had no idea what this boy… this Joseph character, would be like. Was he worth trusting?

Would he attack her as soon as they said their vows? Could the Sardotheons be trusted? She wasn't sure if her questions were relevant at this point, since she'd already sworn her oath to blend the Dunwald family line with that of the Sardotheons in hopes of increasing trade… maybe her relatives were obsessed with the idea of having a black market under their partial power.

There could be other reasons, but for now that seemed to be the most accurate. She inhaled the scent of the long, endless fields of golden wheat. She watched the farmers work hard; tilling the freshened earth with whatever was available to them. The people of Redstone were generally receptive to her family and the laws that they enforced, even with the existence of the Crimson Colosseum.

"You seem distressed."

Téa blinked in surprise, a blush reddening her cheeks as she stared at her guardian, a haggard old woman with little to no interest in her personal well being. She hardly ever saw the need in protecting the heiress to the Dunwald throne, even when the life of a princess was considered especially sacred within the grounds of her palace.

"Forgive me if I don't seem that excited to sell my soul to a family that my parents hardly knew." Téa scowled, wishing she could back out of the promises she'd made to her greedy mother, whom was still bedridden. Her father was dead and obviously had no say in whatever she did at this point, but she would easily be disgracing him if she made a rash decision outside of the plan of the Redstone dynasty.

So, for now, she would have to go along with it, despite how much she hated it.

* * *

**Kisara**

* * *

"I keep saying them wrong," Kisara muttered in disapproval. She eyed her brother warily, wondering if the frustrated young man was having any luck with practicing his vows either. Their mother had sworn that she would disown them if they kept ruining their vow rehearsals… if the wedding didn't go well, then nothing would.

"I honestly don't care at this point…" Joseph frowned, swiping the edge of a stone against one of his practice swords that he used to slice wooden dummies during his sessions with Magister Mahaad. Kisara tilted her head to the side in bewilderment, easily sensing the anger radiating from her brother like a tidal wave.

"You've been really upset these past few days." She suspected she knew. It always had something to do with their parents, more specifically with their mother. Ever since they were young, their mother was a startlingly harsh perfectionist who made sure to address her children with the same expectations that an army general would have for his soldiers.

Then again…

Kisara had noticed the way Joseph looked at Yuugi on more than one occasion. During dinner conversations, he would always defend Yuugi's honor if their mother berated her existence and blamed her for just about every wrong political decision made by their forthright parents. The Shifting Coast seemed to travel with the waves of her brother's heart; his passion for protecting his sisters… for the forbidden affection he clearly had for Yuugi, was enough to churn the ocean waves.

She'd feared for his secrets ever since it was clear that he wanted Yuugi in that way. Joseph had no idea she suspected his emotions. To her credit, he wasn't exactly great at hiding his emotions, even though Yuugi was completely clueless to how Joseph felt about her. His jealousy towards Mahaad and Yuugi's closeness, and his disregard for his own mother's opinion about who he should marry…

Kisara felt terrible for her brother. She loved Joseph and Yuugi more than anything in the world, more than her parents would ever expect from her. She was thought of as the kind, sweet one, the one who needed constant support because of her frail appearance and substantial intelligence, yet weak capacity on the battlefield. She made herself useful with her tactical skills, and that was fine with her.

But she was, in absolutely no way, weak or vulnerable. Her mind was sharp and she detected whatever she could in the right moments. And right now, watching Joseph stare out across her bedroom balcony and to the darkening skies, she knew the anger he felt was directed at so many things. He hated life right now, she guessed, and only sometimes would he seek help in that area.

"You know you can talk to me whenever you want to," Kisara offered, smiling kindly. Joseph blinked at the sudden voice intruding his thoughts, glancing at his sibling with widened eyes. He nodded his head in silent acceptance, yet couldn't bring himself to return her smile. Kisara faltered slightly at this. "We're going to get married soon, Joseph… I talked to Yuugi about how I'm going to try to adjust to it, but it's going to be so hard."

The blond continued scraping at his weapon, perturbed.

Kisara motioned over to him, taking a seat beside him on top of the toy chest that she hadn't cracked open since she was four. "It's okay for you to be scared too, you know. No one would blame you for it or judge you."

Joseph hesitated, grumbling something inaudible. "I have no idea how we're going to handle it, Kisara." He stared at her, masking a grin. "But, whatever happens, just know that you're brother is there for you."

It was almost exactly akin to what Yuugi had said to her just a few days prior. Kisara blinked in marvel at just how similar they thought sometimes, and she was overjoyed at how much of an impact she'd made on their lives, one biological, and one adopted. It was wonderful and reassuring to her that their mutual friendships would most likely remain through whatever was to happen.

"And I'm here for you too," Kisara answered softly, tenderly grasping his shoulder and squeezing it. "I'm your sister, your supporter and friend. I love you, Joseph, and I want you to be okay with this too. Our futures are about to change forever, you know."

He smirked in bemusement. "Yeah. I know." His eyes sharpened quizzically. "What do you think will happen with Yuugi? If we leave, she'll be here by herself… and if the Dunwald chick and your betrothed stay here, then where will Yuugi be?"

Kisara stiffened. "Mother wouldn't… I don't think she would kick her out—"

"That's what she's been waiting for, isn't it?" Joseph scowled darkly. "Our mother has put us through a lot of shit, but not nearly as much as Yuugi. She's made her always do more than us, has always insulted her, and as soon as we exchange vows with the fancy-pants prince and princess duo, we're not going to have a complete grip on Snowmount Rock… or Wyntorn, anymore. Which means," he paused, "we won't be able to help Yuugi."

An uncomfortable silence impregnated the room.

Kisara thought about his, her fingers twiddling nervously. She was so focused on her wedding, so drawn to the idea of either leaving or staying at her home, that she hadn't thought about what their mother would do once Yuugi was out of their protection. Once their names were detached, she would find some sort of excuse to be rid of her if she so chose.

She glanced at her brother thoughtfully, passion and concern filling her normally joyous crystal eyes. "Joseph…" She trailed off, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. "What if you took her with you? If you asked your fiancée, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you had an extra family associate in your estate, especially if it's eventually decided that you leave Wyntorn."

Joseph blinked at the suggestion. "… If anything, Ki, I'd want her to stay with _you_." He didn't need to explain why.

Kisara ignored the frostiness in his voice. It was always sensitive, talking about Yuugi in a way where it seemed like a gray area for Joseph, when Kisara knew just about everything there was to her brother and how much he cared for their adoptive sister.

"You're saying that if she went with you, you could never move past your feelings for her." Kisara decided to be blunt, watching in mental satisfaction as Joseph stared at her with eyes the size of dinner saucers. He was so shocked that his hand froze on the scraping of the weapon, nervous sweat slicking his skin.

"… How did you—"

"Just know that I know, and that I don't judge you."

Joseph released a heavy sigh of relief, as if a concern he'd been dealing with for years had been lifted from his shoulders. The look he gave his sister was one of pure gratification and thanks, and Kisara gradually took it with just a small smile. She would always be there for her brother, and she'd meant it.

* * *

**Tristan**

* * *

Prince Tristan Hart of Rivercastle decided upon first glance that Snowmount Rock was nothing particularly special.

Rivercastle was a flourishing kingdom with bountiful hills, sweeping valleys of fresh blossoms that adjusted to each season, and the mountains were never too far from his balcony. It was always beautiful there, always joyous and tempting, and the women were frolicking with happiness and generosity whenever they saw him. He was a flagrant flirt, and this did not bother his parents until it was decided for him that he would wed a measly fourteen-year-old princess from Wyntorn, one of the most _unimpressive _destinations he could think of.

He wanted no association with this place whatsoever. It was dreary to look at. The colors ranged between whites, grays, blues, and the occasional golden and pearl tones of the sands of the Shifting Coast. Perhaps that was the one saving grace. He hoped, desperately, that as soon as he got married, he would take his wife back to Rivercastle. She would most likely love it more anyway. Was that too much to ask?

He was definitely a handsome man, at least according to all the women he had been with. He was tall, well-built with rugged muscles, a needlepoint hairstyle that he made sure to trim once every three or four months, and the fierceness of his topaz eyes were grueling and understandably stone-cold. He was not one to trifle with when he was serious, which, in all honesty, was a bit of a rarity.

He waited outside of his carriage, arms neatly folded across his broad chest, while his loyal bodyguard disembarked from within the vehicle. Tristan did not even bother to glance over his shoulder, as if trying to prove that he could withstand the cold weather of Wyntorn, the constant winter pull beginning to wire through his formerly impressive muscles.

God, it was freezing.

"You probably should have brought an extra layer, since this place has been well-known for the frosty weather." The snide remark came from between the lips of none-other than Tristan's highly respected and yet, incredibly sarcastic, bodyguard, Seto Kaiba.

Seto was a force to be reckoned with within any training field. He sported the grand steel plate armor of the legion Tristan's father once commanded back in Rivercastle, and those who confronted Seto in the past were practically immune to anything beneficial in their lives afterwards. He was a calculating, cruel, ice-hearted person who did whatever was necessary to promote his rank above all else, especially when regarding his loyalty to the family bloodline of Rivercastle.

Tristan shrugged, ignoring him. "We've already been standing out here for five minutes," he scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm definitely not impressed with the look of the place. And we're supposed to get _married _here?"

Seto frowned, calming one of the oxen that pulled their carriage across the country. "To be fair, your parents wouldn't have enjoyed the people of Wyntorn gracing the carpets in your own palace."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "They're dead."

"They would roll in their graves," Seto retorted sharply, though remaining calm as ever. His posture always annoyed Tristan to no end. "Are you going to knock on the doors? That's usually what calls for visitors."

The Prince of Rivercastle ignored the clear jab at his intelligence. He motioned towards the door, casually bringing his fist up to knock, and suddenly the doors swung back, nearly causing him to trip over his own (horribly applied) silk slippers.

Standing there was an immensely tall and surprisingly attractive middle-aged woman with long, graceful silver hair and frigid crystallized orbs for eyes. A small, nearly forced smile graced her cracked lips, and her heavy robes of deep red and violet contrasted greatly with the green and gold colors of Tristan's own clothing. He stepped back, immediately bowing as his bodyguard did the same.

"You must be Lady Sardotheon," Tristan stated formally. "It is an honor to finally meet you. May we come inside?"

"Oh, yes, of course! I'm surprised that you arrived here so soon! Lady Dunwald isn't here yet, as I can see." The mistress seemed distracted; Tristan could sense the irritation radiating from her withering flesh like tidal waves. There was something ferociously angering her, though Tristan could tell that it had nothing to do with him.

Thank the gods. This woman was going to be a terrifying mother-in-law.

Within minutes, Tristan and Seto were introduced to the surprisingly lovely indoor atmosphere of the palace. The winds gathered from the storms miles off the coast were still kicking into the room and causing the banners on the wall to move, though Tristan tried paying no mind to it. He smiled in gentle appreciation of the warmth from the fire across the room, and he made sure to be as courteous as possible when in the presence of Lady Sardotheon.

"I'll get my children down here. They were supposed to be here already and prepare for the supper, but…" The woman turned on her heel, bellowing. "_Someone _go get my good-for-nothing son and daughter down here this _instant_!"

Tristan blinked awkwardly at her yelling, trying his best to keep his composure. He glanced towards Seto, flicking his head. "You should find somewhere else to stand other than the table. I'm not really sure how she'd like guards and soldiers to stand in her home."

Seto eyed him strangely, yet obliged by his orders. He clearly had nothing to say in this situation and, judging by how he was walking, Tristan could tell that his bodyguard was just as curious about this place as he was.

He waited in awkward silence, the natural atmosphere that dwelled within the palace starting to grate his nerves. He wondered how a family so much smaller than those that lived in the wealthier kingdoms could prosper in this environment. Where did they go for entertainment? There were no theaters around, no restaurants, no bullfighting rings, no taverns or bars of any sort… and no training divisions as far as he could see… unfortunately, he was never convinced to take up the task of learning how to fight, as it was considered useless with how much wealth his family had in their possession. His involvement in the battlefield would be fruitless, at least according to his parents and tutors.

"I sincerely do apologize for this, Prince Hart. May I present to you, my daughter, Kisara Sardotheon."

Tristan swept his attention over to where Lady Sardotheon stood, and his eyes bulged wide in epic surprise.

He had never seen a more beautiful girl in his life.

_Kisara_… even her name was lovely. She was a lithe, small creature, with clear grace, poise and natural beauty drifting from her in gentle waves. Her hair was long and far silkier and finer than her mother's, and her doll-like eyes were so large and round and emotionally poignant that Tristan swore he could get lost in them. His proper age of eighteen years suddenly didn't seem too far off from her fourteen… she seemed so mature, even with the way she held her hands together, lavished in a lovely gown of purples, blues and bright grays that brought out the subtlety in her porcelain complexion, rosy cheeks and gorgeous hair.

He was speechless.

She remained regal as well, and in a voice that would cause even the heaviest bells to chime, she whispered sullenly: "It's very nice to meet you, Prince Tristan of Rivercastle. I'm glad that we've finally met… on our wedding day." Her mother glared at her, if she'd made a mistake or something, but Tristan didn't care.

He was still entranced by how gorgeous she was. No one in Rivercastle looked like her. She was so unique…

He cleared his throat, embarrassed at his own distraction. "It's very nice to meet you too, Princess. You are just as lovely as they say you are." He smiled politely, gradually taking her slender hand in his own and bestowing a kiss. "I look forward to bringing you back to Rivercastle." _If that is the decision that is made. _

Kisara blushed considerably at his words, carefully drawing her hand back and nodding cautiously. He was worried that he'd frightened her. After all, she was still so young, and even if he felt guilty for even _thinking _of touching her now, he could wait… wait until she was ready for a step so lascivious and supposedly vulgar.

* * *

**Seto**

* * *

Seto couldn't _stand _Prince Tristan of Rivercastle. The fact that their fates were inevitably entwined would have to be owed to the fact that his own family owed several heavy debts to the Harts for some "good deeds" or similar bullshit like that in the past. Seto, himself, was cautious about where he stood with his obligations and boundaries, and never liked listening to Tristan's orders.

The Prince of Rivercastle was an immensely spoiled brat. And the way he eyed this girl, this Kisara Sardotheon… it made him tense up considerably. Yet when Seto eyed the girl as well, he was curious as to why she seemed to be hiding her true nature. That was clearly a mask of politeness and naivety that she was putting on display. From the looks of it, her mother was responsible for this nonsense, and he wondered what the outlandishly attractive princess acted like when no one was around.

He sensed something different about her, and he was curious. He remained by the wall next to the gigantic dining table where the servants were handing out disclosed silver platters, lighting candles and making themselves useful in whatever way they could. He avoided their attention, and accidentally caught the searching gaze of the princess. Their eyes locked, and he found that, for some odd reason, his own breath escaped him.

For at least four seconds, he couldn't focus on anything else. Something about her reached out to him and grabbed ahold of his spirit. It was bewitching.

… _Who is this girl? _

"Oi, it might be a good time to stop staring at my sister like a buffoon."

Seto jolted upright, turning in the direction of the voice. Standing there was undoubtedly the Prince of Wyntorn. He was slender and tall, as suspected, clearly built well with undoubtedly long hours of training and supervision. His tousled blonde hair was the color of burnt sunflowers, and his calculating brown eyes leveled Seto's own with clear indignation and distrust.

"You must be Prince Sardotheon," Seto muttered, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Where is your bride-to-be?"

The blonde shrugged, rolling his eyes and suddenly dropping his intense charade. His shoulders drooped and he looked like nothing more than a child. It instantly gave off a lazy impression to Seto, who had worked hard his entire life. "If I knew where she was myself I could answer you. I'm guessing you work for the man destined to steal my sister's heart." He focused once more on his sister, not even turning to Seto as he continued. "Make sure he doesn't do anything… I won't be able to be there to protect her all the time."

Seto frowned. "I can assure you that nothing will happen to your sister."

Was there really a need to be worried?

Seto watched in curiosity as the entire family began to assemble. The King of Wyntorn did not look nearly as assertive as his achingly statuesque wife, who seemed tempted to constantly bash something over her own children's skulls. The blond prince, whom Seto discovered was named Joseph, stuck to his sister's side throughout their long, drawn-out conversations.

Except for one.

A rather petite, slender girl with features that defied everything that described the heir and heiress of Snowmount Rock was positioned steadily at the top of the stairs. She was leaning against the wall, her arms carefully folded beneath her chest, her eyes steady and focused on the family below that seemed to want nothing to do with her. She was carefully masking her emotions as to not disturb them, and if Seto hadn't looked up he wouldn't have noticed her.

Who _was_ she? She wasn't dressed like a servant… and she clearly held more authority than he would have deemed possible for a slave or chambermaid. The aura pulsing off of her was strong and unbridled, like a slumbering bear cup waiting for the right moment to wake up and strike.

He turned his attention back towards the Prince of Rivercastle, reminding himself that he had a job to do.

* * *

**Atem**

* * *

Atem had certainly not expected his first target to be so incredibly foolish. He hadn't even prepared an elaborate scheme or trap for his impending victims, and the pathetic individuals that actually wandered into his path were unfortunately not going to be continuing on their journey anytime soon. From the looks of it, their intention to reach Snowmount Rock was put to an incessant halt.

"Milord, what shall we do with her?" Atem's most trusted advisor, Shadi, gestured with a flick of his wrist towards the injured woman dressed in elaborate, elegant robes that could only belong to one of royal blood. From the curious expression gracing Shadi's Verythian features and the uncertainty clouding his eyes, Atem wondered if he should be outright brutal as he had originally planned.

A rather sadistic smirk danced across his lips. His attention temporarily diverted back towards the palace perched on the Cliffside that overlooked the restless sea. The Shifting Coast provided the perfect boarding place for his ship, and his slaves and followers had not hesitated in making sure that the sails were adjusted in case a storm suddenly charged in their path.

Atem turned back to Shadi and the girl in question. The old woman that accompanied the girl was murdered in cold blood, though that was not entirely Atem's attention. His slaves simply did what they were told, and that was to stop the carriage by any means necessary. He couldn't have onlookers watch as he purged the palace of whatever valuables they possessed inside.

Besides, he'd heard that a wedding was set to happen. To think, the several families clustered into one relatively small castle… it was barely large enough to accommodate for one of his priceless towers back in the wasteland that he called home.

"Keep her alive for now." His brow furrowed cautiously, watching as the clearly young woman was starting to flutter open her eyes. He ignored the excited whispers of the male slaves who, without a doubt, had not seen a pretty girl in a while. She shifted slightly in the grasp of his followers, and once her pale orbs opened, it was clear that she was of royalty.

"I…" She coughed out blood, horror suddenly grasping her throat as she realized what was transpiring around her. The dark clouds overhead began to weep, and within seconds the massive group of criminals and the near-unconscious princess were soaked to the bone. "What… w-what happened? What have you _done_?"

Atem snorted. She was nothing special, as he'd predicted. "Tell me your name, wench." He glared once she refused to say a word. "Make her talk." The slave holding the left side of her body in proportion with the other male roughly jabbed her ribcage. She squeaked, coughing out more blood. Atem ignored the droplets staining the earth; he roughly grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look deep into his intimidating blood gem orbs.

"_Talk_, or you will suffer the same fate as your old woman." He stepped back, unimpressed. "Your supposed _fire _does not impress me one bit, you foolish girl. Tell me your name and why you were headed towards the Wyntorn Palace." His features scrunched in frustration when she could barely keep her head steady; she was still in shock. Shadi placed a hand on his shoulder, warning him carefully in case he moved forward to strike her.

"You mustn't be too impatient yet. We should take her with us, have her grant us easy entry into the castle interior."

Atem pondered this. "That would make this easier…" He growled towards his slaves. "Keep her awake and walking. I have a new plan set in motion."

* * *

**Yuugi**

* * *

_What the hell is taking Joseph's fiancée so long? _Yuugi thought in disdain, shaking her head in disappointment. She wondered if her brother was just as anxious as she was, but she knew a part of him wanted to be sure that Lady Dunwald would just not appear if she chose to. That would cancel his wedding, his chance of leaving Kisara, his parents, Yuugi…

She bristled as Lady Sardotheon glanced over her shoulder, gesturing with a flick of her annoyingly pretty head towards the dining table, where the most extravagant food was finally being set out. Yuugi had remembered to keep her distance from any formal events in the castle, but, as she'd suspected, the mother of her adoptive siblings was not interested in including her.

"Yuugi," Lady Sardotheon growled. "Make sure that the door is properly stationed in case Lady Dunwald arrives soon." She crossed her arms, ignoring the looks that Joseph was burning into her back. "I want to be sure that Joseph is able to go through with this as well, though there will be no wedding until he arrives."

Yuugi was honestly surprised that there was still going to be a wedding at all. It had already been two hours since Tristan Hart arrived, and he was attempting to woo Kisara in a way that made Yuugi want to punch him across the face and watch blood leak through his eventual broken nose.

She smirked amusedly at the thought. Joseph would definitely join her in those ambitions…

She blinked, feeling her brother's hand wrap around her elbow. She turned to him with a risen eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be over there? I doubt your mother would be happy with you talking to me right now."

Joseph rolled his eyes. "Does it look like I give a fuck about what she thinks right now?" Yuugi blinked oddly at his language. "Don't look so shocked." He chuckled. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. Since… well, if Lady Dunwald _does _eventually arrive, there's a good chance that we'll be moving back to Redstone. Together." He seemed distracted by other matters, but with a shake of his head he tried to remain focused. "Just, you know, I wanted to talk to you about something before I left. Since I don't know if I'll be able to see you again once we depart."

Yuugi's stomach dropped. She hadn't really thought about Kisara and Joseph leaving so soon. Of course, she knew it was inevitable in some cases, but tonight? Immediately after their wedding? How was she supposed to emotionally cope with that? There was no way that she would be able to say her goodbyes to Kisara and Joseph, her two best friends and anchors within the walls of the palace, without thinking through it first…

"I… yeah, sure. Of course, I mean." Yuugi blinked, grumbling in frustration. "Sorry, I just… yeah, I should've thought more about you guys before tonight. I can't believe I've been so selfish."

Joseph glared harshly at her words. "How in the _hell _is this your fault in any way? Yuugi, you've done nothing but support Kisara and I through thick and thin, and we're never going to forget you. I was just hoping that we could have a conversation somewhere more private—"

A heavy banging on the front doors instantly silenced the hall. Lady Sardotheon bristled in immediate suspicion, her brow furrowed intensely. Her husband grasped her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly to calm her down. Kisara eyed her brother and Yuugi, ignoring the adoring looks Tristan Hart was giving her, and trying her best to remain steady underneath the glowering of his own bodyguard…

"I-It's me, Lady Dunwald. I'm so sorry I'm late. It's raining out here and I was hoping that I could come inside."

Lady Sardotheon's face bloomed into a smile. "Of course!"

Joseph hesitated, instantly feeling like something wasn't right. Yuugi stiffened beside him, her eyes cast in disbelief as their mother rushed to the doors, yanking the entryway open without a second thought.

"Welcome to our magnificent palace—"

However, she was unable to finish her sentence, her smile instantly vanishing as a cloud of vacancy overshadowed her womanly features. She glanced downwards, barely registering the horror of the long, menacing silver blade piercing through her stomach.

Within two seconds, the sword was swiftly pulled back, and the corpse of Lady Sardotheon collapsed onto the floors of her own dining hall, where a pool of scarlet rapidly developed around her lavishly dressed body.

No one could speak. Yuugi was too shocked to say anything, swiftly covering her mouth and ignoring the lurching in her stomach. This wasn't a time to be so frozen, and yet, she couldn't help it. Her entire body, her bones, her muscles, the very blood circulating through her veins… it was as if time stopped.

Standing there, smirking defiantly at his actions, was a man unlike any other Yuugi had seen on the lands of the Ostrësian Empire. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his skin browned from a sun that was unknown to their castle by the Shifting Coast. His hair was extravagant, piercing several different angles as if he was struck by some godly lightning. He was dressed in pearly white silks with occasional bouts of leather and armor plates, and his piercing crimson orbs rivaled the color of the blood leaking from the horrendous woman that Yuugi loathed her entire life.

"It appears… that the mistress of your household has fallen." The stranger chuckled, clearly mad as he drew the blade forward, pointing straight towards the small crowd that remained too shocked to speak. Beside him, a pretty young woman that Yuugi assumed was Lady Dunwald, was beaten and bruised so badly that she wondered how she could have mustered the courage to say the words that prompted her adoptive mother to open the doors.

Joseph's fists clenched harshly, tears pooling in his eyes. "You… _how dare you_…"

"Do not step forward, or your bride-to-be will suffer the same fate as your Lady Sardotheon." The stranger was clearly an individual of power, and before Joseph could twitch another finger, the grounds were flooded with numerous men with the same skin tone and fierce, blood-lusting eyes as their leader.

Yuugi clenched her fists. Just… why did this have to happen? She looked to her left, her heart jumpstarting in concern at the horrified, petrified expression of her beloved sister, who was quivering in her chair at the table with absolutely nothing to say. Tristan's own bodyguard had reached for the hilt of his sword, but judging by the droplets of sweat beading on his temple, he was not foolish.

They couldn't fight this man…

"Just what the fuck do you want?" Joseph bellowed, and suddenly he heard another scream. He turned, the tears only continuing to run as he watched his own father collapse to the ground.

Kisara screamed.

"Speak again and I will continue hacking away at your family like _wheat_." The stranger… this _tyrant_, seemed totally amused by his actions. He snapped his fingers, and Lady Dunwald was hurled onto the carpet, barely struggling to stand. "Go to where they are, foolish wench." He waited patiently until she was able to scramble to where they were.

Tristan Hart trembled like the coward he expected to be, barely keeping his composure.

Both of the heads of the Sardotheon family had crumbled right before their eyes. Yuugi swallowed the hefty bile rising in her throat, wondering if she could somehow change this. She couldn't risk the lives of Joseph and Kisara… they would surely be the next targets if they drew this madman's attention.

"But, I suppose, to be polite, I will answer your question, _Prince_." The tyrant leveled him carefully, his sharp teeth clearly resembling the absolute flaring temper he possessed. "You were expected to succeed your pathetic parents, I presume?" He shook his head. "A shame that they never taught you how to embrace your heritage like a true man."

He sheathed his blade, and suddenly, his attention moved to Yuugi.

She remained completely steadfast, even as his irises flared in her presence. She had no idea why the interest in his gaze suddenly grew, but before she knew it, his hand was grasping her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His features were godlike, indescribably chiseled in the form of a demon that tempted the wildest of fantasies to occur, and yet, at his hand her adoptive parents had fallen.

"And, what, pray tell, do we have here?" He grinned suddenly, as if curious. "Quite a plain-looking little wench…" He tilted his head to the side. "Though your eyes…" And then, without another word, he backed away, glaring, as if the air between them had suddenly changed. It was as if a tendril of flame separated them, as his gaze was turning quite wary of the girl. "Hmph. Stay where you are, little one."

Joseph bristled immensely beside her, and she knew that if he didn't move, she would have to stop him before he got himself killed.

"Leave her out of this, you monster," Joseph breathed.

The tyrant glanced at him venomously. "I have no further interest in you, _boy_. I have killed your parents, thus, the ownership of this land now belongs to me. I will take whatever I please." He crossed his arms. "You will remain here, under complete and total supervision by my remaining slaves."

Yuugi was relieved that her brother wasn't going to die. At least, not yet.

"I should kill you…" Joseph growled out deeply. "We should have a duel! A duel to the death, here and now!"

The madman raised an eyebrow, bemused. "You must be joking. You would have no chance against me, you foolish boy—"

"You were supposed to wait for my signal."

Yuugi's stomach clenched. She knew that voice. _No, no, no, no, no, no…_

Magister Mahaad faced the small crowd with a mask of stone-cold indifference that none of the people of Snowmount Rock, of Wyntorn, had ever seen before.

His attention was completely focused on that of the tyrant who bombarded their home and slaughtered Yuugi's adoptive parents before her very eyes, yet she knew that she would move on… it was Kisara and Joseph that worried her the most. And with the way that Mahaad was presenting himself to this cold-blooded murderer made Yuugi realize something horrific.

This was planned. By someone she trusted.

"Mahaad…" Joseph couldn't believe this either. "You… we trusted you… _we_, as a _family_, trusted you! I trusted you! You were our friend! How could you do this to us? How could you do this to our _parents_?"

Mahaad remained passive, even with the slight glimmer of guilt that flashed through his formerly friendly and welcoming eyes. "I am sorry, my prince. Decisions had to be made that I was not accustomed to. Though my loyalties had belonged to King Atem before I joined the ranks of the Wyntorn palace."

Atem. It was definitely a foreign name, and Yuugi's eyes instantly widened with recognition.

This man… this barbarian, was a _legend_.

"You're Atem of Verythia," Yuugi whispered distractedly, her fingers slowly curling into her palms in bottling rage. "You have that entire land across the seas to yourself. Why would you come here? Why would you bother with my family? My family, whom have done _nothing _to deserve your wrath?"

Mahaad made a move to speak, though his apparent king stopped him with a flick of his arm, watching Yuugi curiously, as if the magister was about to interrupt an impressive speech.

Yuugi was trembling now. She was so confused, so horrified, and nothing made sense. She was hoping this was a nightmare, a terrible dream that stole the happiness of those she loved away from her. Kisara and Joseph would never recover from this. Mahaad, her closest friend and mentor, had been nothing but a lie…

All because of a king that wanted more than he already had.

Atem glanced over her curiously, his expression wavering into a singular mask that none of them had seen that horrific evening. "… The Sardotheons who remain alive will be protected within these walls, as per Magister Mahaad's request." He turned towards his companion with a small smirk. "I was tired of waiting for your signals, my friend. I could not want to continue my journey of pillaging the Ostrësian Empire." He glanced towards Yuugi, and her heart skipped. "Though, I will be taking one more token from this despicably small palace."

It was silent for several moments, until Joseph grabbed Yuugi's hand and pulled her behind him with such force she thought he would break her arm. "You're _not _taking her away from us! Don't even _fucking look at her_!"

Yuugi bristled. _What?_

Atem frowned. "Are you really going to argue with me about this? I will be taking the girl with me." He locked gazes with Yuugi once more, as if lost in thought. "I will remove my level of mercy within a mouse's heartbeat if you do not—"

"I'll go." Yuugi pushed Joseph aside, giving him a warning look as he stared at her in slack-jawed shock and betrayal. She exhaled shakily, turning in the direction of Atem of Verythia. "If that will stop your rampage and senseless murder in my home, then I will go with you."

Atem, to her surprise, looked taken aback at her intense behavior. She held his attention with the most piercing amethyst orbs he had ever seen, and for a second, when he was so close to her, he felt something flash between their souls. She was special. This girl was going to be some driving force in his mission to conquer the Empire… that he knew for sure.

"… You've got a lot of guts, girl. I'm surprised you were raised amongst these cowards who call themselves worthy of royal blood." He watched her curiously, the cruel, calculating expression of killing from before taking over. "You will never see them again. You will remain by my side, bolstering my banner of the Three Gods of Verythian Lore, unable to return to Wyntorn. If you defy me, I will kill you."

There was no hesitation. "As long as you promise to keep them safe, I will go."

Atem was silent. It was almost as if he hadn't expected her to be willing to go with him at all. She was glad that she bemused him. He deserved to be put off for his horrific plan of taking over another kingdom on his own leisure.

Joseph trembled, his fear for her quaking his entire body. She dared not look at him… if she did, what would Atem do? Would he strike down her brother in front of her, like he did with Lord and Lady Sardotheon?

Kisara's small voice barely cracked the poignant silence. "Yuugi…"

"Quiet," Seto warned. He knew very well the gravity of the situation, and his duty to protect his prince and his bride-to-be was nevertheless just one of occupational hazards.

Yuugi resisted a gasp in surprise when Atem drew forth his long, obsidian blade, bringing it right below her chin, just shy of her throat.

"You do not fear me."

It was a statement, threaded with the rigid tone of a former stranger with no intent other than to kill. When Yuugi declined to respond, his sickening smirk only grew, as if he was about to laugh.

"The Empire will fall before me, little fox, and you will join me in watching it burn."

Yuugi's fists clenched so hard she felt blood pool in the palms of her hands.

She'd fulfilled her purpose.

Kisara and Joseph would be safe.

* * *

**WOWZA. That was a crap ton of a fun to write. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated.**

**Please drop a review if you'd like! I'd appreciate the constructive criticism and openness about your thoughts. PM me if you have any questions (sometimes they don't come through so don't be offended if I don't get to them right away please) and I'll hopefully update this one again soon. Most of the chapters will be about this length, just FYI. **

**Thanks everyone! :)**


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N:**_Well, all that I can start off with is that I sincerely apologize for the absence with this story. Truthfully told, this is one of my remaining favorites that I've published in the Yu-Gi-Oh! Fandom. I'm very sorry for the lack of activity with writing as of late. Motivation has hit rock bottom in some areas and has soared with others, but I still have faith in this story. _

_Hope you all enjoy this next installment! (Also hoping there's an improvement in my writing since the last time I updated this… guess we'll see.) _

* * *

**In **_the _**Land **_of _**Blood **_and _**Fire**

Chapter Three

* * *

**Joseph**

* * *

"The Empire will fall before me, little fox, and you will join me in watching it burn."

The words tumbled out of the golden-skinned bastard's mouth like acidic wine. Joseph's fingers curled into his palms, insults bubbling like poison behind his teeth, but with one look at the terrified expression on his sister's face, and the corpses of their parents welling blood into the carpets, he knew he couldn't take that extra risk.

Cinnamon eyes bore into Yuugi's back, the teenager righteously defiant, rigid—sweat slathered her neck, out of pure nervousness, he was sure. He wished he could muster the defiance to push the blades away from his flesh, to grab her by the sleeve and step in front like the protective dog he was often compared to.

He nearly jumped at the contact of Kisara's fingers intertwining with his. She cast him a desperate glance, one only fitting in those crystalline depths for eyes, and in that moment he solemnly swore that he would not do anything else to put her in further danger. His heart felt viciously torn—one half desperately beat for the sake of his adoptive sister, while the other ached to avenge his fallen parents and protect the castle he was once meant to inherit.

"No protest, I see." The foreign king tilted his head, scrutinizing Yuugi carefully with a twisted smirk capturing his lips. Joseph felt his knees buckle in anticipation of wiping that disgusting expression off the murderer's mask of insolence and indifference. He seemed solely focused on parading his victory around with the fallen name of the Sardotheons on his broad shoulders.

_He can't take Yuugi away. He can't. _

Tears threatened to spill over, but he refused to allow it. He couldn't bear the thought of shaming his entire family with his enemy witnessing the waterworks of a failing prince leaking out of the corners of his eyes. He felt a gaping hole swallow his chest, devoid of the security he'd once felt within the walls of the palace, in Snowmount Rock, a place where he and his sisters thrived on the belief that they would be prepared for any dangers.

Atem then lowered the sword at Yuugi's throat, turning his attention to the audience admonishing his every word and movement. He prowled the vicinity like a tiger, his prey already cornered and subjected to one of a thousand possible scenarios that would lead to the most torturous death imaginable. The stories that traveled the vast ocean never failed in leaving out the details of the gruesome executions and pillaging that the invading ruler had been so familiar with.

With one sideways glance at the bruised form of Téa Dunwald, Joseph knew she was the only person who'd managed to encounter him and get out of her situation alive. And that was only because he needed her to infiltrate Wyntorn Palace, just in time for his blade to pierce his mother's stomach and maniacally proclaim that any hope they would be keen on holding onto was left scattered in the sandy winds.

"Mahaad, take them to their prison barracks. I'm sure you know where that is." Atem's gaze locked with Joseph's, and he pushed every ounce of hatred and venom into his brittle bracken irises as soon as the contact was made. The king made no difference in his expression, his jawline relaxed and allowing his lips to do no more than present an amused smile.

Magister Mahaad kept his head low when he instructed the followers of the foreign king to bring the new prisoners to his attention. Joseph glimpsed the forms of Seto Kaiba being restrained further, the hesitant warrior forcibly nodding his head in relation to his master—Tristan Hart of Rivercastle—being restrained against his will as well. Like a broken doll beside him, Lady Téa Dunwald did not breathe another word; he supposed it was the smartest decision.

His hand tightened around Kisara's, willing his poisonous insults to remain glued to his tongue. Yuugi did not turn to face him, but he knew she was even more enraged than he was—he knew her better than she probably knew herself, and in this moment, he knew he was correct.

Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles blanched white.

"I agreed to your terms, and you want to make things even worse by putting what's left of my _family _in the _prison barracks_?"

Joseph's eyes bulged out of their sockets. Kisara hiccupped beside him, shivering in disbelief. The other onlookers slowly drew their attention towards Yuugi Sardotheon in one sweeping motion, hands paused in their struggles, tongues frozen in their lapses of coughing and awkward stumbles.

Atem slowly pivoted on his heel, gracefully turning his form away from Joseph to that of his adoptive sister.

_Yuugi, you're going to get yourself killed. _He swallowed, unsure if he wanted to examine the undoubtedly outraged expression on the foreign king's face. He saw the man's fingertips twitch, as if aching for the feel of a blade, but he did not bring himself to touch the weapon for a second time. Instead, the king remained silent, fixing a smoldering scarlet stare onto the woman he was determined to steal away from Snowmount Rock.

But, the silence was not a warning Yuugi seemed to care for.

"Yuugi—"

"Quiet, Kisara," continued Yuugi, her voice strung thin like needles pricking at sandpaper. Those large orbs of violet were harshly brimming with fire. "How can I trust that you won't harm them when we leave? What will become of them? I can't leave them behind with nothing to protect them or take care of them." Her throat tightened, her teeth grinding fervently. "I refuse to take one step out the doors to this palace without knowing for sure that they will be protected!"

And then, the silence was shattered. Atem broke into hysterical laughter, the sound bouncing off the walls of Wyntorn Palace and hovering like a disembodied spell over the ears of his targets. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and finally turning back towards the girl with a sharp glimmer of annoyance and amusement flickering in those maroon gem eyes.

Mahaad stepped forward, kneeling on the carpet with his head touching the floors. If he had moved any closer his lips would've brushed the fine leather wrappings for shoes his king adorned—Joseph felt bile rise in his throat at the familiar image of Mahaad once doing the same for his own father.

"My king," he said, voice muffled from the closeness of his mouth to the carpet, "she is young and has never experienced a situation like this before. Please grant her your patience. She is foolish for opposing you, but let me deal with her rather than take her life. I beg you."

Joseph eyed his former mentor warily. _Does… he still care? _No, no, it wasn't possible. Mahaad had betrayed the entire family for the sake of "old loyalties," so to speak, and had indirectly caused the deaths of his parents, and the possible demise of his sisters as well. He could not forgive the man, even when he was pleading for Yuugi as if she was still one of his closest companions, a girl who looked up to him since she was brought into the castle at such a tender young age.

"One would think your soft spot for this… _kitten_, hasn't wavered, Mahaad." Atem's slick smile curved crookedly, and the fire that emitted from those twisting lips would have sent shivers down the spines of any tormentor. Yuugi bristled slightly at the nickname, her brow furrowing on questioning his reason for such a title, though she did not inquire further—Joseph read the ferocious determination on her features and wished he had the gall to make such bold statements with his life on the line.

Even now, she was stronger than he was. His mother would've been embarrassed to know that the only child without blood relation to their name happened to bring the most pride to the Sardotheon family in this very moment.

"Your siblings were meant to be married," stated Atem, shrugging, as if discussing the matter over afternoon tea. "I will send them off accordingly to the locations where they were meant to be, as expected of such bonds. However, I am only doing this as a means of spreading the word that I have arrived into the Empire, and I will not be leaving until I have the crown in my hands, stained with the blood of those who've wronged my people." A shadow of memoriam passed over his face, though it disappeared within that same instant. "You should be thanking me, little one, rather than wishing to incite a fight you most certainly will not win."

It was a warning. Yuugi's mouth was pursed, her stubbornness threatening to break through for a second time, but Joseph could read the hesitance through her body. She was trembling.

"He's going to kill her," whispered Kisara, her cheeks stained with dried tears. Joseph kept her close despite the rustling of the foreign king's slaves and followers pressing around them with brutal spears and curved scimitars. "He's going to kill Yuugi…"

"He won't," whispered Joseph. He studied the king's entertained expression, and knew that as long as his sister continued playing this game with him, she would remain alive.

* * *

**Yuugi**

* * *

To her surprise, the King of Verythia actually kept his word.

She'd verbally exclaimed her fears and propositions in exchange for her leaving the safety of Snowmount Rock with him and his followers, and the thought alone sickened her to the very core. She wished to see her sister smile in her wedding dress, and her brother gradually tell her that they would meet again someday while he kissed the mouth of his beautiful bride. Of course, they were not looking forward to their wedding in the first place, and even if she approved of the strangers she'd come to recognize as Lady Dunwald and Lord Hart, she wouldn't be satisfied unless she knew that her siblings would be guaranteed a golden future.

She did not care if she wound up skinned alive or quartered because of her foolish demands, but she would gladly trade her teeth, her limbs, her hair, her eyes, everything—anything and all if it would lead to the safety and well-being of Kisara and Joseph Sardotheon.

"I will be escorting them to their respective locations, to be sure that they are unharmed."

_Mahaad. _Yuugi's jaw clenched. She glanced out the walls of her bedroom, a storm gathering in the distance. It hadn't stopped raining in so long, and she wondered if it would ever cease, especially with the foreign king stepping onto Imperial soil. She refused to look into the eyes of a man she once respected.

"I understand if you do not wish to talk to me. I can swear to you, Yuugi, that the king will not harm you. I've known him for many years, and his last intention is to hurt you."

How _dare _this bastard have the nerve of telling her that the king would not harm her? Even now, she didn't care if this was the case. She knew that her siblings were being shouldered off into prison cells, forbidden from her embrace, and all she wanted to do was hold Kisara close, stroke her hair and tell her everything would be okay. Joseph had something he desperately wanted to tell her, wearing an expression she had never seen before, and now she would never be able to see what that meant. The conditions were made, and she would abide by that loyally.

If she wasn't allowed to say her goodbyes, then so be it.

"You _betrayed _our family, Mahaad," she croaked out. With her hands wrapped around her knees, she barely turned towards him in acknowledgement of his broad, sturdy form guarding the doors to her room. He was preventing her from leaving, and the thought of him being her temporary prison guard made her stomach lurch. "They're _dead_—Joseph and Kisara's _parents_—because of _you_."

She heard his shoes scuff the floor, as if uncertain.

"My loyalty was to both, though I do believe King Atem is the true ruler of these divided kingdoms. He wishes to unite them, and create something anew."

"Your loyalty doesn't justify what you did," whispered Yuugi.

"I know you're angry—"

"_Stop_."

She held back her screams of frustration and agony building into sobs in her throat. She refused to cry in front of this traitor, her bones quaking and her thoughts rushing in a jumbled mess to the back of her mind. Her fingers drove into her scalp, as if attempting to pierce her own skull to pull out the conscious thoughts of anguish and foolishness she'd experienced in such a short amount of time, and here she was, subjected to travel as some sort of bait with the most fearsome man she'd ever met.

Mahaad dipped his head. "We will be leaving shortly, Yuugi. King Atem will not be patient if we stay behind for too long, I'm afraid. I suggest you make your final prayers for Wyntorn, for Snowmount Rock, and even your brother and sister, here before we depart."

And with that, he was gone.

Yuugi wished she could bring herself to hate him more than she could, but even then, the treacherous golden memories of him instructing her how to hold a sword for the first time brought bitter tears to the surface.

* * *

**Seto**

* * *

To say that his pride and sense of honor was bruised would be an understatement. Glancing around him, at the placid, fearful expressions of fellow prisoners and hostages within the prison barracks, Seto felt his chest constrict with a newfound sense of sympathy he managed to grasp for the sake of others he wasn't assigned to protect. Still, when he found the vacant, formerly glowing face of the Snowmount Rock princess, he couldn't help but remain silent and transfixed on her knowledgeable expression.

Determination had sent her cobalt eyes ablaze, her tears having dried hours before. She was next to her brother, the two of them refusing to become shadows of their former selves, their hands linked for comfort and warmth and support. Her own fiancée was cowering pitifully in another corner of his own cell, his fingers raking through his styled brown locks, his jaw quivering in refusing to accept the current situation. Lady Dunwald had refused to talk to anyone, her swollen bruises so prominent in the dark it would have made anyone flinch upon first sight.

"We're not going to die," Kisara said suddenly. Her brother nodded; truly, the unspoken connection the two held so easily was not unwarranted to the others. Seto glanced down at his hands, flexing the scaled gloves that once served him so usefully in fisticuffs, and even now, without his sword, it seemed futile to try and fight any of the foreign king's followers.

"He said he's going to send us back to where we came from."

Ah, so the woman named Téa _did _have a voice. Seto eyed her as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, an air of purged fear radiating around her like a hefty storm cloud. She rubbed her bare arms, the torn cloth of her bell sleeves and ruffles of her dress suddenly appearing not important at all beneath the fear she wore on her face.

"Do you think it's true, though? Will he actually spare us?" Joseph's words came off bitterly, and it was not a surprising thing to witness. "That bastard… he—he's fucking got _Yuugi _now, and we might all be dying soon, and fuck, if he kills her, I don't know what's going to happen." He swallowed, his throat bobbing out of pent up aggression and fear, all directed towards the bronze-skinned king. "He killed our parents…"

"There's a chance, though…" Lady Dunwald whispered, barely audible. Tristan Hart rocked back and forth, a ball of pathetic embellishment that nearly caused his bodyguard to roll his eyes. His own fiancée was keeping herself composed and arguably becoming the anchor of hope within this small, conjoined room; if anything decent came out of the existence of the Sardotheons and Snowmount Rock, it was probably Kisara's willingness to act like an eventual queen far before her time.

"You don't know that. None of us do," muttered Joseph, brown eyes flashing. "None of us are safe until we know for sure. And even then, none of us know what's going to happen."

Seto shook his head. From his standpoint, he could tell that all of them were lucky to be alive. From what Seto had witnessed, King Atem of Verythia was not a man of mercy. He acted in a manner that almost seemed unhinged, verging on the wayward path of someone seeking vengeance and glory. However, those two factors were never attributed to heroes within Imperial history. If the fool was willing to lay down his cards so early, it made no sense to him why he would do so with such little thought put into it.

_Maybe I'm underestimating him_, thought the bodyguard, stroking his chin.

"Sir Kaiba, where are you from?"

He didn't expect to be talked to at all in this moment of panic. Slowly, the seasoned warrior turned to lock eyes with that of Kisara Sardotheon, forcing his attention to remain on her words, rather than the soot caking her porcelain skin and pebbles framing her silver hair.

"From the Andrema Isles, Milady," he replied simply and curtly. Through years of training and mastering his work as a swordsman and protector of royalty, Seto had been asked numerous questions, all of them similar in nature, whether it was about his origins or his duty, or even his motivations concerning his separate jobs. Before he came into contact with the Harts of Rivercastle, he had no true goal in mind other than creating a suitable reputation.

Though, rather than accepting his answer and politely continuing a conversation with someone else, she decided to continue probing him, not once leaving the coldness of his eyes. "That's rather far, I think. What brought you to serving the Harts in Rivercastle?" As she spoke, some of the tension lifted in the room. Her brother's hand tightened around hers, his own breathing becoming less labored, less stressed.

Seto raised an eyebrow. "It was out of obligation, I suppose. Years of traveling on foot and serving as a mercenary to many other lesser-known families put me in that position." He pondered for a moment, thinking back to the countless offers made in his name, the visions of men and women alike from nobility and beyond willing to stretch their pockets clean of coin just for his services. He was not fond of the Rivercastle family, but that hadn't stopped him from accepting their offers and becoming entangled in the life of a spoiled young lord named Tristan. "Jobs and money are hard to come by in the Isles. Sometimes it's nearly impossible, and I believed that coming into one of the wealthiest divisions of the kingdom would help cement that position. So far, I haven't regretted leaving."

For the most part.

Kisara seemed content with this answer. She nodded, turning her attention to the sconces just barely lit outside their cell, the firelight casting a healthy glow on her rosy features.

Seto swallowed, turning away from the angelic image. He felt his insides wither ins slight shame, which was not an emotion he dealt with properly on most occasions. On the contrary; his pride was almost unquenchable, constantly bolstering his performance in combat and his ruthless desire to be the absolute best in his field. His competitive drive was a huge reason why he was so successful and widely known for his work with the noble families of the Empire.

But, for some odd reason, this young woman's presence was rather captivating. It had more to do with her aura than anything, despite how outlandishly beautiful she was. In his homeland, men and women alike would have given every piece of themselves to either attain a creature like that to be their wife, or become similar to her themselves. He had never seen a girl with her features so naturally presented, and he highly doubted that even her own mother boasted the same spirit when she was younger.

No, no… one thing he found as a direct similarity between the three siblings was the clear fact that they all emitted a vibrant soul, one that pulsed with affection and energy that he had not come into contact with in a long time.

"You say that Lord Hart is the one you're serving currently, correct?" asked Kisara, sounding much more formal than she had when the foreign king burst through her precious castle's front doors. She seemed somewhat detached, but the embers still licked across her irises.

Seto sighed. He suspected she wasn't going to stop talking for a while. He knew it was best to remain calm, and stay patient for what was to come.

"Yes," he began, briefly gesturing with a noncommittal flick of his head towards the cowardly lord. "My duty is to protect him during these events. It's not something out of the ordinary."

"I'm impressed with your ability to be so calm in this time," she replied candidly. Seto glanced at her, curious. She noticed his look and continued with mirth: "None of us are willing to accept what's happened. I don't… I don't want to face the facts that my parents are dead, that my brother and I are going to have to find another way to get out of this mess, but at this point there's nothing I can really do until the time is right." She hummed a small tune to herself, grinning hollowly. "I believe we'll be okay. We'll survive. Somehow."

And in that moment, the young silver-haired woman earned his respect.

A slow smirk gradually formed on his lips. It would be interesting walking alongside her when they returned to Rivercastle, as long as that was actually what King Atem had promised.

"Well said," he muttered.

* * *

**Atem**

* * *

He felt the arm rests of the throne with little admiration for its poorly welt stones and rosewood fixture. The velveteen cushion for a seat was interchangeable with any of the chairs in the dining hall, and the tapestries splayed across the walls hardly impressed him in their overbearing simplicity. He stared at the two morbidly wet spots on the regal carpet, deep maroon pools of Sardotheon blood stringing up the white and black threads.

"This seat is hardly fit for any ruler," he said pointedly. One of his trusted advisors, Shadi, bowed his head in agreement and muttered his apologies for the delay in taking out the corpses. Atem wasn't exactly impressed with the castle he'd ransacked—nothing of the décor or company truly stood out to him as worth keeping. The guests, the servants, the successors to the Sardotheon bloodline; none of them mattered to him.

Curiosity, however, attached him to the ferocious feline eyes of the girl. He hadn't encountered a spitfire soul like hers in years. Something about her emitted a sense of honesty, of burning temperament that he once highly valued in his followers and admirers back in the sweeping, desert-burnt sands of Verythia. His kingdom was outlandishly beautiful, fit for only the strongest, the boldest and most mythical in nature, yet he managed to find a girl who was certainly too bright and inwardly powerful to be chained to Snowmount Rock.

"What would you like to have us do with the girl you've separated from the others? Are we truly going to take her with us?" questioned Shadi, surprised at his own ruler's actions. Atem glanced at him with a carefully quirked eyebrow, leaning his chin into an upturned hand.

"I meant what I said. She will be joining us in our purging of this kingdom. Soon, the Empire will grovel before me and revel in my taste of blood and beauty. I'm sure that having her as collateral would mean something to the other rulers. Perhaps they will be more inclined to listen with the terrified words of a Wyntorn survivor being voiced to their ignorant ears."

His advisor's gaze narrowed in suspicion, but chose to dismiss any further questions. He turned away from his leader, fixated on the doors. "The storm should stop soon, my liege. We should be able to depart soon, as will Mahaad, with the prisoners in toe." He cleared his throat, dark eyes brimming with curiosity. "If I may ask, Your Majesty, why are you so keen on sparing their lives? They could reunite their own forces in certain territories, spark a rebellion to ignite a war against your intrusion into their land."

Atem drummed his fingers on the armrest of the throne, observing the gemstones and bracelets lining his wrists and forearms in carefully masked boredom. "Are you questioning my decisions, Shadi?" Within that moment, his broiling lava eyes struck his advisor, and the other remained steadfast, unwilling to present himself in a subdued manner for the sake of his king.

That glare promised countless bloodshed, open to war on numerous occasions.

"No, I would never dream of it, Your Majesty. Forgive me. Perhaps I stepped out of line."

Atem snorted. It would not be worth his time to cut out Shadi's tongue for his insolence. He had other matters to deal with. Already, in the brief span of time he'd come to know since first stepping onto the Shifting Coast, he was relentlessly tired of the frosted rocks, the tumbling waves of the ocean, and the total lack of sun and heat that seemed to be completely devoid from Wyntorn territory.

"This place is a bit uneventful. That girl, the feisty kitten," began Atem, smirking crookedly at the thought of the young teenager, "she must be writhing in agony at the moment."

Shadi swallowed. "It appears she's quite upset, Your Majesty. Mahaad mentioned that she's refused to talk to him directly about anything since the removal of the Sardotheon rulers."

"I suppose that makes sense… pity, I would have hoped she'd put up another fight." His grin only spread in its wickedness, fascination dripping from the expression like the venom from viper fangs. His advisor glanced towards him with little surprise, but the disturbing realizations he felt rippling through his body in spades made him wonder why his ruler was so curiously attached to the teenager.

"… Do you plan to get rid of her, my liege?" Shadi was careful with his wording. He backpedaled from the throne, observing the changing features of his ruler. Atem folded his arms across his chest, cords of muscle reacting to the tiniest movements like a symphony of hardened flesh.

"I find her rather intriguing," he answered simply. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Shadi suppressed a disappointed frown. Getting a girl like her involved would surely make the rest of their pillaging experience less than orderly. Sometimes the king became attached to shiny new toys too soon, and apparently, in this special instance, he became rather entranced by the violet orbs of the adoptive Sardotheon.

"Of course, Your Majesty. I'm sure she will become a valuable asset to your quest."

Atem regarded him icily. "You need not lie about your opinions on the matter, Shadi. I can sense your disapproval from oceans away." His advisor bristled beneath the truth of his words, and Atem reveled in the fear that spread through his followers like poison. Still, the malicious air he held seemed to dissipate in recognizing the unwavering loyalty this man held for his family name. Not once did he stray, and even with his questioning nature, he remained at his side, spurring along his incessant quest for power and control whether it was deemed necessary or not. "Make the preparations needed for departure."

Shadi nodded. "Yes, my liege—"

"As for the girl," Atem started, pondering, "I will speak with her myself."

Shadi's slack jaw was not enough of a surprised reaction for Atem to bother asking him why he would react in such a foolish way.

* * *

He'd expected the girl to scream at him or order him to release her siblings, or else she would unleash her pent-up fury for him to endure. He expected all sorts of reactions, even a few tears if that was possible with the little firecracker, but he certainly hadn't expected Mahaad to glance over him so expectantly, to silently suggest that he should probably not go into the belittled Sardotheon girl's bedroom.

He pushed open the doors, his brow furrowing in drinking in the details of her chambers. Unlike the other bedchambers in the castle, this room was composed of poorly covered wooden floorboards with not one stretch of carpet overlaying the surface, with one single painting of a potted plant sitting beside a wide, broken windowsill. The bed itself was nothing but a rumpled mass of white sheets and wooden blocks, and he wondered if she herself put the structure together, with how blank and meaningless her living space appeared.

He would've been equally convinced if this were a jail cell, rather than the bedroom of a respected Sardotheon heiress.

She was seated casually on her bed, not even twitching a muscle at his entry. She was dressed in different clothing, he noticed: long-sleeved cotton shirt, hanging loosely over her slender, milky shoulders, her drawstring trousers splotched with grass stains and old flecks of mud. Her hair was positively wild, strands of mahogany and jet-black woven through with threads of honey. Her eyebrows were bunched together, her nose scrunched up in concentration at her fingers carefully maneuvering a needle through two pieces of cloth.

Starlight spilled through the billowing curtains hanging off the windows, casting a suiting halo around the girl's wild hair. Her lips were thinned and her focus was not at all directed towards the tragedy and heartbreak of her current situation, but rather than tears or fury, he noticed complete determination and bitterness rolling off her slender form in waves.

He closed the doors behind him, his smirk fading in favor of a more curious frown. He did not let his superior disposition fade upon entering, however, and he would be damned if he allowed such a weakness to befall him in his moment of beginning his conquest of these sacred lands. They would be bend beneath his knee, cower before him as he called for new order, a new age to begin with the banners of the Three Gods of Verythian Lore stretching high and mighty over the fine oceans.

The girl's face lifted, and for the first time in what he believed felt akin to centuries, his chest twisted in tightrope knots. Those wide, vivid pools of violet burned with immense passion and fire, boiling and yearning for his blood to shed.

But behind that first layer of hatred were many, many more emotions battling for control: protectiveness, loathing, anger, determination, patience, acceptance, resistance, bitterness… they beamed in stormy rays, all directed towards him with the silent force of a sledgehammer. If he were anyone else, he would've staggered back, would have braced his arms to his sides in preparation for the regal force of such a look to weigh him down.

For just a moment, his body went _alive _with electricity and eagerness. He wanted to see her scream at him, tell him to run away and to never make himself present in her home. He wondered what she would look like if he caused her more pain, more indescribable volition that would earn him even more of such an intensified, venomous series of glares.

_Gods, those eyes. _His teeth grit, annoyed with himself for being so weak. He hated to admit the jab of respect and awe he had for this foolish young girl.

"What do you want?" she asked with a mask of cold indifference.

The spell was broken. But just for now. He knew it would be an interesting journey with this one trudging along his side.

"We will be leaving soon. I suggest you make your final goodbyes apparent to your siblings before they are carted off to their respective territories." He grinned at the stiffening of her shoulders, the way her fingers paused in her irreverent sewing. He was positive she was imagining puncturing that needle in his own eyes. "Little one, your bloodlust is quite palpable from this short a distance. You would be wise to tread carefully."

She turned away from him. He glimpsed her profile, the sleekness of her jawline, the curve of her swan-like neck, the delicate dip into the loose fabric of her clothes—

"Where are we going, then?"

He paused in his roaming of her elegant, yet youthful features (gods, this girl was a bundle of contradictions and it struck him with nothing but curiosity and intrigue) and regarded her question with a lifted eyebrow. "You are not at liberty to know such things. You are to be a prisoner, not a guest." He chuckled darkly. "You should rearrange the current ideas you have of your situation. This is not one of glamor that you're used to, young girl."

She locked eyes with him once more. To his slight disappointment, she seemed totally unfazed, but upon closer inspection he knew that her pulse was throbbing faster than before. "You know _nothing _of my life, who I am, or what I stand for, _Verythian king_. You may have slaughtered those fickle people I was forced to call my parents, and stow away my beloved siblings into the prison cells where they should have _never _been put, but I'll be _damned _if you say one more thing about knowing exactly what my motivations could possibly be, or how I was treated in this godsforsaken castle."

Atem's eyes flashed, his voice darkening. This girl was brave, yet very foolish.

Very foolish indeed.

"Careful, little one," he whispered, his words carrying velvet winds in a thick winter night. "You seem to have forgotten how easily I dealt with your parents. When their blood is still hardly dry on the edge of my blade, you wish to tempt the beast further?"

She did not falter. She held herself like a warrior, a lady borne through metal and fire. But how was that possible with her upbringing? Surely she was spoiled rotten, similar to the likes of her brother and sister…

Then again, if these were truly her chambers, perhaps he was mistaken about her lineage.

"If you wanted to kill me, you would've done it already," she replied coolly. She set aside her sewing materials, the pieces of poorly interwoven cloth instantly telling the eventual conqueror that she was apparently daft in her creative skills.

_Hm. _He suppressed another smirk from developing; he cautiously strode over to the bed, his head tilting in observing the noted tensing of the girl's muscles. She truly was small, much tinier than he originally expected when entering the premises, and regarded the smoldering glare she gave him with nothing but satisfaction.

Her hands, as tightly clasped as they were, were shaking.

_Good. She should be afraid. _

"Perhaps that is true," said the king suddenly. He knelt in front of her, their close proximity adding warmth and depth between their close physical forms. He sensed the pure desire for her to attack him just from observing the twitching of her body and the grinding of her teeth. He wondered why she was resisting to strike him if she was so confident that he wouldn't harm her.

He slowly brought his hand up to her chin, grasping her youthful face and grinning at his eventual prisoner's hesitance to say a single word beneath the growing pressure of his fingertips on her flesh. Her skin was incredibly soft—supple and vanilla. He wondered if the athleticism she boasted in her movements and posture stretched to the rest of her body as well.

Her breaths were hot and growing against his palm. He grasped a free curl of her untamed hair and twirled it around his finger, relishing in the unique shade of gold she harbored in her looks.

"What do you want from me?"

The question seemed completely unnecessary in this brittle moment. He almost snorted, but he decided to humor her; he estimated she would not change her opinion regardless of how many questions he answered, and that did not deter him in the slightest.

"You will know soon enough." He studied her carefully. "Tell me one thing, little one, for I'm rather curious." She did not move, but he recognized the glimmer of interest in the depths of her eyes, and smirked in satisfaction. "Your spirited fire is truly Verythian in nature. It calls out to me like dragon's fire from the hearth. I can sense your unbridled hatred and bloodlust for me, and it thrills my desire to further conquering your kingdom." She hooked her bottom lip with her teeth, biting it in a desperate attempt to keep from lashing out, and he was mesmerized with watching the way she coped. "Your lust for power, your potential… there is no doubt in my mind that you have the makings of a Verythian warrior. It was as if you were stolen from the lands from which I was born—"

She slapped his hand away.

He blinked owlishly at this action, flexing his fingers.

"I'm born and raised in the Empire, and my loyalty is to Joseph and Kisara." Her glare riled up his senses even further, begging him to demand her to challenge him on another level. It was a powerful and unique gift, one that he had only seen possible with his people. "No matter what you do to me, I will _never _support the likes of _you_."

She wielded her feisty tongue and incredible spirit as easy as taking a breath.

Atem swallowed back the urge to return the slap she'd so carelessly inflicted. She would learn her place, soon enough. "We will see how long your spirit lasts beneath my reign, my fox," he breathed, chuckling darkly. He stepped back, slowly drawing his eyes up and down, across the hidden form beneath her tattered, inexpensive clothing.

She shifted beneath his stare, a warm flush blossoming across her neck and cheeks. Atem inwardly purred at such a sight, as if an angel was beckoning for him to trace his lips along her collarbone and murmur his plans for her eventual submission to his rule. He wanted to break her, and watch her crumble like the figment of power he believed she could be.

Whether she liked it or not, the girl was not a commoner of the Empire. No, she carried herself like a Verythian_ queen_.

"Your name."

Her jaw tightened further at his demand, a growl rising in her throat. "I don't owe you a name. Prisoners don't usually tell their rulers such a pointless thing, as far as I understand."

He snorted. "I am not asking, little one." His smirk grew colder by the second. "You would be wise to comply by this demand. If you do not tell me your name, I will cut off your little sister's fingers, one by one for each syllable of her own name."

That threat grabbed her attention. She whipped towards him in half a second, bristling from head to toe in a pure reaction he expected from a scorned woman.

Ah, so her siblings were the gateways to her weakness. If he had threatened to cut off her own fingers, he suspected she wouldn't even hesitate to tell him to go fuck himself.

"… Yuugi," she whispered, her fingers bunching the cloth of her trousers.

He replayed the name in his mind. _Yuugi. Hm. Interesting. _He turned on his heel, walking towards the door with barely an acknowledging wave over his shoulders. "Mahaad will show you to the prison chambers shortly to say your goodbyes, unless you'd rather leave sooner." He did not turn to examine her expression, though he was sure her glare had intensified.

He felt those darkened lavender gems burn holes into his pack, and he was delighted to create that sickening effect in his new target for entertainment. He pushed open the doors, regarding Mahaad with a flick of his head.

"See to it that the prisoners are unharmed. I need the Sardotheon children alive and untouched for the girl to even glance my way."

The magister stifled a nod to his ruler and longtime friend. "Yes, of course, Your Majesty."

Atem made his way down the steps to the throne room, replaying the scent of Yuugi's flesh in his mind, the pearly smoothness of her skin, the tantalizing amethyst globes clashing with his own ferocious gaze with intensity and anger…

_Little Yuugi, you will become an interesting part of this game, I am sure of it. _His smirk was only for him to witness, only a ghostly expression to that of Shadi, who could hardly believe the look of pure amusement and obsession that flashed in his king's eyes.

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**A/N:**_Thank you all for reading! I very much appreciate the heart and dedication you've all put into this story! It means a lot to me. Thank you for your patience as well, and I do hope you enjoyed this chapter!_


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